Only If For a Night
by Nightlock Runner
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are on their Victory Tour and Katniss is tired of being Snow's pawn. On the last night in the Capitol, Katniss pushes aside her restraints and finally takes something for herself.
1. Chapter 1 - Small Victories

_Katniss -_

It doesn't seem to matter even when I follow Snow's rules. The Districts are on the verge of rebellion. What does he expect me to do? He's playing another game with me and I can't win. But I keep trying anyways.

I stick to Effie's cards after the fiasco in District 11. I let Peeta take the lead, only voicing my rehearsed lines when it feels appropriate. But it has no impact. If anything, it only riles the crowds up more. They seem to know that I am towing the Capitol line and they are dissatisfied with my performance. I am their puppet and the people are angry with me now.

"Convince me," Snow had told me. My only hope of survival, of Peeta's survival, is that Snow and the Capital believe us. But my sinking suspicion is that it is all useless. A waste of whatever little time I'll have left when he's done with me for failing.

After the District Tour, we race to the Capitol for the grand finale. I feel hollow inside, sure that I have failed Snow's mission. The nightmares are getting worse too the nearer we get. I barely sleep the final length of the trip, even with Peeta curled up beside me. His arms are like a shield, but even they can't hold back the flood of fear I feel.

When we arrive, the Capitol is a sea of indulgence and excess as always. I make an effort to enjoy myself for the show of it, tasting bits of the dishes stacked high on gleaming tables. Fountains of food and Champaign line the outer edges of the President's Mansion garden. Every splendor the Capitol has to offer is on display. Even when I am stuffed on baked clams from District 4 and jellied pears from District 11, I feel hollow. This place is shallow, it's a lie.

"I've had enough." Peeta scowls at the flutes of pink liquid being passed by the Avoxes to the party guests. "People are starving in the Districts and these people actually make a party of throwing it up so they can stuff themselves again."

I understand his displeasure. I almost died at the age of 11 when my father died in the mines. I wasn't old enough to sign up for tesserae, and I was too young to fall prey to men of fortune like Cray (the head Peacekeeper). If it hadn't been for Peeta, I would have starved to death for sure. Right alongside with my mother and Prim.

"I need to get out of here," Peeta says through clenched teeth. I can't agree with him more. I've had enough of this charade.

Our rooms are in the Training Facility penthouse. The same place we stayed before going into the Arena for the 74th Hunger Games. Peeta turns away to head for his room but I catch his hand.

"Please, stay with me."

He catches my eyes. The bright blue irises search mine. I don't know what he sees there. Fear? Anger? I'm a mess of emotions, I don't even know myself. But he smiles and squeezes my hand. "Always."

I let Peeta leave me to change into his night clothes, but he is back in my room no sooner than I've turned down the silk sheets. We crawl into bed together as we have every night on the train since the Victory Tour began. Peeta props himself up on the pillows and I settle down next to him, curling my legs up against his and laying my head upon his chest. His arms wrap around me and I can feel his fingers playing with my hair.

It's comfort for my swimming head. I'm not used to drinking alcohol like Haymitch is and I had more than one glass of Champaign at the party. My eyes droop and it's only a matter of minutes before I fall asleep.

I'm back in the Arena. I can hear Rue shrieking my name. I'm running through the trees, not caring how loud I'm being. All I know is that I have to get to her.

I see the net. I see her thrashing helplessly. And then she's been stabbed and I let a single arrow fly. I've avenged my friend, but I'm too late. I'm always too late.

Rue's eyes are clouding over as I hold her in my arms.

"Katniss," her voice is a tremble and she gurgles blood as she stares up at me with those pleading, doe eyes. "Will you sing for me?"

It costs me everything to not lose it. But I say my good-bye again. I sing for her about the mountains in District 12. The Mockingjays pick up the song and sing it back to me as I cover her body with flowers. I place three fingers to my lips and I raise my left hand into the air. I am resentful of all the Capitol has made me do. I am rebelling. I am a spark.

Snow is in my house. He is telling me to convince him of my love for Peeta. He is threatening my family and Gale. He is threatening all I know, all I love. He is forcing me into a life with Peeta. He is taking even that way from me. It's not my decision.

I try to tell him, "No." And I see the consequences of my actions. I see my family hanging from the trees of my hunting grounds. I see District 12 in ashes. I see Gale's pale face stuck on a fence post as a warning for anyone else who dares defy the Capitol. But it's not until I see what waits in the blackened shell of the bakery that I begin to shriek my head off.

"Katniss!"

My whole body is thrashing. I can't control myself as my arms flail wildly. There are hands on my arms and I rake my fingers into skin.

"It's a nightmare," I hear Peeta's voice calling to me through the haze of my nightmare. "Katniss! Shh! I'm here!"

The fog of sleep leaves my brain and I remember where I am. I'm in the penthouse of the Training Center. I'm in my bed. He's alive.

I shake my head to clear it again and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see the claw marks I have left on Peeta's forearms. I have wounded him, but he is staring at me with only one concern. Only one care in the world. Me.

I'm a foolish girl. I'm self-centered. I keep trying to save the people around me, but I keep hurting them. I keep failing them.

The weight of the world is too much for one seventeen year old to bare. I lose it then. A sob escapes and I cannot stop it. I don't have the strength anymore. I've spent it all for Snow and for his show. I'm broken.

The bed creaks as Peeta shifts. He draws me to his chest, his chin resting on my hair as he feathers kisses upon my head. He coos softly to me, rocking gently as I cry against him and I am stunned again by the depths of his love for me. I'm struck, once again, by how I've hurt him by playing into Snow's demands.

I wrap my arms around Peeta's back and I pull him closer to me, trying to melt into his skin. I'm tired of being me. I want to absorb some of Peeta's strength because I've given all of mine. And it strikes me then. There's a hunger that I felt once before, but I didn't know how to describe it. I was too terrified then, and what does it matter now? I've already pledged my life to Peeta by order of the Capitol. For the sake of the Districts. What can it harm me now to take something for myself?

There is no audience. There are no camaras. This is for myself and for Peeta. It may be my last chance. I'm going to seize it. If he'll let me.

I've done so much in the past few months to forget about the Arena. To forget about the pledges I made to Peeta then. Because, when I got home, I honestly wasn't sure where we stood. Was it love? Was it all a show? Was it to survive? What does any of it matter when our lives are no longer our own anyways? I just hope that we're on the same page. He must know, deep inside, that I'm not as indifferent to him as Snow would believe.

My right hand slides slowly up Peeta's back, over his silk nightshirt and my fingers wrap into his beautiful blond hair. I can feel his body relax, his grip on my shoulders isn't as forced, but he doesn't let go. I swirl the fingertips of my left hand over his back, moving to the low arch of his spine and he exhales a shuddery breath.

"Katniss?" His question is of my intentions and I don't feel the need to speak. He's always been the one good at talking. I've always believed that actions speak louder than words.

I tilt my head up and I stare into his deep blue eyes. I try to show him everything I'm thinking in that one glance. I'm not certain he gets my full meaning, but I have other ways of showing him. His lips are soft and salty. Peeta moans into my kiss, letting me nibble on his lower lip as he rolls me onto his chest.

I cradle his face with my hands as I continue to kiss him, my legs straddling his sides and I can feel something hard poking my abdomen between us.

I'm not naive but it catches me off guard when Peeta rolls his hips upwards against me, driving the hardness between his legs into my belly. I can't help the startled gasp.

Peeta freezes in an instant. His blue eyes snap into sharp focus and a line of worry creases his brow.

"I'm sorry," he tells me and I hate myself for making him worry. I wash away his fear with a swift kiss and I whisper reassuringly, "I'm fine." It doesn't quell his worry.

"We should stop," he tells me, but I don't agree. I don't want to stop. I want this. I want to hold onto something. Something the Capitol can never take away from me. I shake my head. "Please," I whisper against his ear. "Please, Peeta. Just... give me this one night to be mine and only mine."

I don't know where the words come from, but the tears edging at the corner of my eyes are telling me they're true. I've never been more true to my heart than this moment. With my family and District 12 so far away and Peeta so close, it seems so simple. There are no games here. There are only the two of us. We are the only thing that is real.

Peeta can't dismiss the truth in my words. He kisses the trail of tears that course down my face. His lips are sweet and soft as ever, but as they close around mine, I feel the hunger inside of him as well.

I'm rolling again as he switches places with me. I part my legs so that he can sink his between mine. He's strong and my hands explore the curves and lines of every muscle in his chest beneath his nightshirt before I yank it up and over his head, tousling his blond hair. The space between us is too much and I pull him back down to me.

I can feel the heat coming off him through my nightgown. His hands are hot as coals as they slide over my calves and then my thighs. I know his intention when his hands slip beneath my nightgown, grasping my bottom in both hands with a lingering squeeze before sliding me up into a sitting position so that he can relieve me of the shift.

I'm aware that I'm exposed to him. Goosebumps run across my arms and my chest as I sit on the bed with Peeta kneeling over my lap. His eyes are raking my skin, taking in the exposed flesh that graces his sight.

"Have..." words have never failed Peeta before but he seems to have become speechless. I press my hand against his chest and I can feel his heart thrumming like a hummingbird. He's scared. I'm scared too. Scared what this will mean for the both of us. What it will mean for our families. What it will mean for Gale and I.

Then I remember. There is no Gale and I. There will never be because I was never given the choice. I was a pawn in the Capitol's games and, in a moment of defiance, I saved the boy in front of me. My life was forever entwined with his then and there. This was only a matter of time. But it's my choosing. Mine.

I take Peeta's trembling hands in both of mine and I guide them to my breasts. I've never let a boy touch me before, but I've heard things from the other girls in District 12. There are enough stories about Peacekeeper Cray to give a girl nightmares; but, when it's by choice, I've heard it can be pleasurable. And Peeta is the gentlest creature I've ever encountered - maybe second to Prim. I'm safe with him. I have to let him know he's safe with me as well.

I only have to guide Peeta for a few slow strokes before he gets the courage to take on the challenge himself. It's all for the best because I've honestly never touched myself before. I'm not sure what this fire is inside of me, but I'm burning under the twists and rubs that Peeta orchestrates over my breasts. When his lips surround an areola, I'm caught off guard by the sensation it sends rippling down my spine into my feet and it fuels the fire in my loins.

Peeta lays me back down against the pillow and his kisses grow needier as I allow him to explore my body. I whimper when he hits an unknown cluster of nerves. I take note of them in my mind, making a map of the areas I never even knew I had that could give me such pleasure. There's the underside of my wrists. There's the hollow of my knee and the cleft where my thigh rounds into my butt-cheek. There's a swoop in my stomach when Peeta's tongue laps around my navel. It's not the best sensation, it feels like I'm falling, but Peeta is there to catch me.

I'm burning for him and I'm growing impatient. I want time to stop so that we can lie like this forever, but I know that tomorrow is coming. We'll have to go back to our lives as Snow's Pawns. If I had forever, I would let him continue. But all I have is tonight.

It takes some effort to get Peeta to switch places with me. He tries to resist, but I'm stubborn and he obliges to lie on his back for me. It is my turn to explore him. I want to know what it takes to make him breath heavier. I need to know him. I only have this night to enjoy him as mine, as my choice… my terms.

I run my hands all along his abdomen. I place kisses across his chest and his stomach. I hear a catch in his breath as I near the tuft of silky hair that stretches from below his navel to his pelvis. He is eager to help me when I reach his silk bottoms and begin to tug them down his legs. I can't help brushing my hand over his manhood as I slide them off. It's already engorged. The mushroom cap is pink and glistening.

I can't help myself staring at him. He's lying beneath me, as exposed as I am. We are at each other's mercy. Our trust is as strong as it ever was in the Arena. He trusts me. I trust him. I trust him more than anyone else in my life. My words will never be enough. I have to show him.

When I drop my head to his pelvis, Peeta lets out a breathy moan that he must have been holding back. It's as though all the air in his lungs is expelled in that one exhale of pleasure. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm willing to try anything for him.

I feel like a silly child as my tongue flicks out quickly for the first taste of him. He's salty and sweet. I'm not sure what I'd expected, if I'd been expecting anything at all. All I know is that I like the taste and I want more.

The shaft is too long to completely wrap my mouth around, but I'm determined to try. When I fail, I accept that I must find another way to keep those moans coming from Peeta's lips. I flick my tongue around the tip and I find the pulsating vein that runs the length of the underside. It's worth a shot and I've always been adventurous.

I slide my tongue up and down the vein, lapping at the tip and I'm rewarded the most delicious moans from Peeta's mouth. His body is shivering beneath my kisses and I can feel his whole body tensing.

"Katniss," he breaths anxiously and knots his hands in my hair. I'm pleased that he's happy.

I never knew that I could do this to a man. I'd never wanted to before... and I have to stop myself. I'm not thinking about that right now. I'm in the present. I have to stay present for him. I can't get lost in my own head. He deserves more than that.

Peeta's arms are around my biceps. He's forcing me away from his midriff and I go reluctantly. I'm rewarded though. As soon as I am on my back, he slides between my legs and I can feel his arousal nudging gently at my entrance.

I can't help squeezing the muscles tight. It's an involuntary reflex. My mind has already decided but my body is scared and behaving on its own.

Peeta slides the tip of his manhood around my slit. I can feel how wet I am between my legs already, but the going is slow. We don't use words to communicate, we use our bodies. His blue eyes stare into mine as he eases slowly inside. I have to shift my pelvis to give him better access and then I feel the tear.

I can't help the grimace or the grunt of pain that I make any more than Peeta can keep the worry from his face. "Katniss?" His voice shakes as he searches my face. "Have I hurt you?"

My body aches but I can also feel the muscles begin to relax around his shaft, accepting him. Welcoming him. I shake my head to brush aside his worry. I reach my arms up and pull him down against me, my lips locking onto his. Our tongues entwine as I bite back the pain. He lays absolutely still until I'm ready. Only when I begin to writhe against him does he relax. That's when my world shatters.

There is nothing in the world except Peeta and I. We are two made one as our bodies move together. It's awkward at first. I grind upwards as he's trying to withdraw, but we find a rhythm. Steady and sure. His body pushes into mine and I rise up, pushing him farther into me.

Time stands still for this moment. It is only Peeta and I. This is all I can give him. This is the real me. This is me without games and without masters dictating my every move. I am free. I am his and he is mine.

When we cum, it is together. I feel warmth spreading inside of me just as Peeta sends me over the ledge of the precipice he has me writhing on. He shudders atop me, releasing his seed deep within me as I shiver beneath. I miss his warmth the moment he slides out of me, but it's quickly replaced by the inferno of his chest as he flips me onto my side so that I can rest my head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Katniss, I-"

"Shh," I tell him quickly, shaking my head. I don't want him to spoil this moment by telling me what I already know. I don't need words. I don't need to hear them again because I already know and I fear Snow will take that away from me too.

What matters is that I have him here and he has all of me. Even if it's only for a night…


	2. Chapter 2 - Home Again

_**Thank-you for the reviews. I had thought about doing a one-shot and done; but, after finishing Mockingjay, I felt there was room for an alternate view. So, venturing on… **_

_Katniss -_

When we return to District 12, the snow has really begun to fall. There's a weeks' worth of celebration to conclude the tour from which I cannot get a moment to myself. I'm still in the spotlight with Peeta at my side, still playing up our love-affair - though, I'll admit that it's less playing now than reality. Still, I am not entirely happy to be home.

There are new complications. I failed Snow's directive. He always knew I would. It was a pointless mission, one he put in front of me to taunt me, to make it all my fault. I may have been the spark, but the Districts were well on their way to revolting long before I stepped into the Arena. I was just the straw that broke the people's back. But there is one thing that's my fault and I have no wish to deny or erase it. Still, I owe Gale an explanation.

He's absent from the festivities and I'm stuck inside until the cameras leave along with the entourage from the Capitol. I'm home for two weeks before I can finally slip away into the woods without anyone noticing, and even now I'm not certain Gale will come. It's Sunday, we always hunt on Sundays. But I know he must be angry with me. If our roles were reversed, I'm sure that I'd feel the same way. Betrayed. Not once, but twice and now I've stuck my foot in so deep that there's no turning around.

I have a plan, though. Haymitch is right; there aren't enough people in District 12 to rally a revolt. We have no hope of fighting against the Capitol as they are already doing in District Eight. There is only one thing on our side. We can run.

Gale asked me to go with him once before and I refused. I couldn't. But now I see the sense of it all. Peeta and I survived the Hunger Games; but, now we'll be expected to watch other children go to their deaths. We'll be their mentors, trying to keep them alive in a game that is never in their favor. I can't do it.

It's almost high noon when Gale finds his way to me through the forest to the house by the lake. No one besides Gale would have been able to track me. I knew he would. I'm also not surprised that he looks livid.

"You can give these back to your fiancé," he snarls as he chucks Cinna's gloves onto the concrete floor at my feet.

At least he has the guts to look sheepish when I tell him they aren't Peeta's. He even looks a bit pleased by the present as he slips them onto his hands. That pleasure doesn't last long.

He's not reacting at all the way I'd hoped. Gale doesn't want to run. He wants to fight. The men in his crew are already talking rebellion. The news of the revolt in eight has only encouraged him.

"But you didn't come here just to ask me to run away." He knows I'm holding back. I've been holding back this moment as long as possible because he's already upset by my desire to flee, I know how he will take the next news.

"I slept with Peeta."

The words hang in the air between us like a thick fog. Gale's jaw has dropped open and his eyes search my face for the hint of a joke. When he doesn't see it, he tosses the gloves back at my feet.

"You can run away with your fiancé, Katniss, but it isn't going to change a damn thing," Gale snarls at me. I've never seen him so angry and I can't help taking a step back away from him. "You may survive in the woods on your own, but what of the rest of Panem? What of the people in the Districts who can't run away? What happens to them?"

I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching tightly. "I can't save everyone, Gale."

"No, but you can give them hope!" Gale snarls at me and I'm ashamed. "But go. Go live your life with Peeta hiding in the woods like the coward you clearly are. I thought you were braver than that."

I hate him. And I love him.

I watch him go without saying a word to defend myself because, deep inside, I know he's right. How many more people will die because the Capitol must keep its hold over the Districts? How many more children will be led to the games to die as an example? How many will starve while the Capitol wallows in excess?

I was their Spark and I'm running for the woods. I'm abandoning them. I feel so much shame.

When I get back to town, my feet lead me right to Peeta's door. He's the only one who I can talk to about what's going on and who will understand. He's heading for his parents house and I offer to walk with him.

I spill my heart out to him as we walk. I tell him I'm a coward and he stops in his tracks.

"You? A coward?" Peeta snorts derisively. He brushes his hand through my hair. "I've never met anyone so brave in all my life."

There's a crowd forming at the center of town and Peeta withdraws from me to climb a box to see above the crowd. When he tells me to go home, I know something isn't right. His tone tells me he's scared. For me.

I push through the crowd against his demands and then I see it. A post has been erected in the center of town square and there's a man bent against it, his hands tied around it and a turkey is staked to the top. I know that man.

I can't help running for him. I hear his anguished screams as the Peacekeeper brings down his whip. I do the stupidest thing possible, I step between them and I take a lash on the face, sparring Gale another beating.

If not for Haymitch and Peeta, I would be the crazed Peacekeeper's next target. As it is, they get him to back off, chiding him for injuring the Capitol's Darling before her big Wedding Day. He's angry, but he lets us go.

I spend the week at Gale's side as he lays on my kitchen table. His back is flayed meat, but my mother and Prim have stitched back what they can and applied medicine to the rest. Still, he's in and out of consciousness.

Peeta takes the afternoon shifts while I sleep fitfully up in my room. I can't be away from Gale long before the nightmares consume me. But I try to sleep and to work through all the thoughts in my head.

If I run, Gale will be dead in a matter of weeks. They've already beaten him near death for poaching. If they knew what he was planning, he'd be shot in the head. And what of everyone else? If I run, what message does it send to them? There is no hope.

It's Prim who brings me back to my senses. While we're out collecting snow for Gale's medicinal coat, she tells me that she finally sees a life for herself. Because of me. I'm her hope. That clinches it for me. I have to stay.

The matter is settled and Gale slowly mends. One evening, I'm holding his hand in mine when he wakes from his morphling sleep.

"Hey, Catnip," he whispers.

"Hey," I smile down at him.

"You're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay and cause all kinds of trouble.


	3. Chapter 3 - Announcment

_**Two short chapters in a week because I was lazy this weekend…**_

_Katniss -_

I feel like my stomach is going to explode. I'm off the rocking chair and racing for the bathroom even before my mother and Prim can say a word about what we've just seen on the Capitol's Announcement.

The contents of my evening meal and a thick mucus fill the toilet as I hurl. My stomach clenches tight and I vomit over and over until I'm resorted to dry heaves. I've never felt so sick in all my life.

There's a gentle rap on the door. "Katniss?" Prim's sweet voice calls my name through the wood, but I don't have the strength to get up.

My hands are braced to the porcelain, my legs curled beneath me as I quiver uncontrollably. I've lost all control of my muscles. I can't even speak. My voice has been taken from me.

"Katniss?" Prim asks more urgently and the knob twists open. I forgot the lock.

I don't want her to see me like this. I'm a mess. A weak mess. I'm supposed to protect her, but she's the one wetting a washcloth and wiping the bile and sweat from my face.

Prim, my little sister who has grown decades in a span of months. She's older and seen more than I've given her credit for. She's becoming a woman, but I still feel the need to protect her. To shelter her and give her the childhood I never had. I'm failing at that too.

"Let me help you," Prim persists as she kneels down beside me and eases me so that my back is against the wall, my legs stretched out towards the bathtub.

When she's done wiping my face, she pours a glass of water and makes me swish it around before spitting it into the toilet where she flushes it and my sick away. She has the stomach of a healer. The temperament of one too. I wonder when that all started. Probably while I was away, unable to fend for my family.

"It's going to be all right," Prim tells me.

I shake my head. "In what world are things going to be all right, Prim?" My words are so venom filled that she actually recoils from me and I hate myself all the more.

The announcement from Snow proclaimed that the Quarter Quell would reap tributes from the pool of existing Victors. For me, that means I am heading back into the Arena. There are no other women from District 12. There is no doubt in my mind that this was Snow's decision. He wants me dead more than ever. Now he has the opportunity. I'm not coming back alive.

"They can't seriously make you compete," Prim says and this catches me off guard.

I actually scoff at her. "Right. So, he's just going to change his mind because I was just in there?"

"No." Prim shakes her head and her eyes lock onto mine. "Because the Capitol will rebel sending a pregnant woman to her death."

I don't know what's taken me more by surprise. The fact that I'm heading to my death, or what my baby sister has just proclaimed so matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't you know?" Prim looks just as shocked as I am. She gives me an impish little smile. "Katniss, you can barely keep anything down but cheese rolls - which, I'll add, you've had a craving for for the last month. It's like, all you ever eat anymore."

I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the wall. Prim's gone mad.

"Don't shake your head at me." Prim's small hands grab onto mine. They feel warm and soft in contrast to my callused hands. I've made sure that Prim has never had to work hard in life. She's a child.

"You're nuts," is all I can tell her.

"No, I'm observant," she retorts hotly. "Do you have any idea how huge your breasts have mysteriously become?"

I open my eyes and look down at myself. I can shove aside the craving for cheese biscuits - Peeta makes the most amazing bread. But it's hard to hide the fact that my shirt is tighter around the chest than it's ever been. I eat better than most in District 12 because of my new status, but I haven't been eating any more than usual. Yet my body seems to have been reshaping itself without my knowledge.

"Oh, Katniss," Prim sighs, a wistful smile on her lips. "You really had no idea, did you?"

I shake my head. "I… I had no idea."

Prim snorts. "Well you can't be -that- surprised. So, who's the Daddy? Gale?"

That shakes me back to my senses. Am I really talking about sex with my baby sister? I give her the stern, older sister/mother look that used to pacify her to behave. She's not buying it though.

"No. Not Gale."

Prim's mouth falls into what would be a comical O if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation. She seems so adamant that I'll be safe. Snow can't possibly send a pregnant woman to her death. Not for sport. I can't get her hopes up. I know who Snow is. If he has no issue sending 12 year olds to their deaths, what's an unborn child to him? What are any of us to Snow and the Games? Lambs to the slaughter.

"You have to tell Peeta."

There's the other bomb going off in my head. My stomach heaves and I'm back on all fours with my hands on the bowl, but nothing comes up. Of course I have to tell Peeta. But how? When? Peeta…

I take another glass of water and scrub my mouth with my toothbrush as something greater rises to the forefront of my mind. There's more to worry about than just myself now. It's not just me who will be sent into the Arena.

"Katniss?"

I shake my head and head for the door, brushing off Prim's hand. "I have to go see Haymitch."

"Haymitch?" Prim sounds perplexed. "What? Why? He's not-"

"No, Prim," I roll my eyes at her question. As if there were any way in hell I would ever let Haymitch touch me like that. But he's who I have to see. "It's Peeta's," I tell her hastily as I grab my coat and boots and head out the door.

It's spring, but the air still has a bite to it in the evening. It feels so good on my sweat soaked body that I don't button up my jacket as I race towards Haymitch's house. But I can tell I'm not his only visitor. Peeta's beaten me to the punch.

He's standing on the porch when I arrive at the bottom steps. There's that look in his eyes that I've seen many times. It's determination. He's already made up his mind.

"It's already decided," he tells me before I can even say a word.

"Peeta-" I start but he doesn't give me a chance. He's down the stairs and his arms are reaching out for me. He cradles my face with his hands and his blue eyes stare resolutely into mine.

"No, Katniss. I'm not losing you." His voice quavers and I lean in, pressing my lips against his.

"You don't have a choice," I whisper against his lips. "If Snow wants me dead, I'm dead. But you, Peeta, you can stay out of this."

And I know then I can't tell him. I can't tell him because he's stubborn like I am. If he wants to protect me now, there's no way in hell he'll let me go once he knows I'm carrying his child. I can't tell him.

I've never wanted children. No child can be born in the Districts and live a happy life. Any child of mine will only be another pawn in the Games. Another waif left to starve even if, by chance, they aren't chosen. But Peeta. He's a man of great words. He can move people. They need him more than they need me. I'm willing to sacrifice myself if it means that he can have a chance to live in a world free of Snow's madness. But me? I'll never get the chance.

I'm the Spark. I've got a red target on my back as the face of rebellion. Snow has me in his sight. No one can save me. No one can save _us_.


	4. Chapter 4 - Man to Man

_**I'm on vacation so… let's see where the story leads… **_

_Gale –_

I've kept my distance for months, watching her from afar. The last time we spoke was in the kitchen of her house, when I was too weak to move. I realize that she saved my life and I owe her; but I can't help what I'm feeling inside.

She walks through town every evening, picking up supplies and groceries for her family and making her rounds to families that are starving. I know for a fact that it's to Katniss I owe for my mother still having work and for my family still being fed. I can't go into the woods anymore and the Hob has been shut down. The fence has been electrified, cutting off my route to solace and my source of food for my family. I owe her everything. But I'm still angry.

I've been watching her change over the course of four months. The skin around her eyes has become darker. Her brown hair has begun to frizz without the hint of humidity in the air. And, worst of all, I have to think of Peacekeeper Thread's lashing every time my eyes dare to look below her collar bone because it isn't right that I still have these feelings for her. I shouldn't be excited by the change I see in her, but my hormones won't cooperate.

Then I see him and the anger starts all over again.

Peeta walks through town like nothing has changed. He goes to visit his family regularly in the evening for meals. Always by himself. Why doesn't he take her with him? I'd never be seen without her if she were mine. I'd be her shield at her side, protecting her from the leering eyes of the Peacekeepers who also seem to have noticed the change in Katniss. I seethe whenever they cat call or whistle at her, but she seems to not even notice their attentions. Or she pretends not to notice them. But she isn't mine to protect anymore and there are other things that I need to focus on.

My shifts in the mines have increased to twelve hours a day. Twelve hours spent in the deep dark of the mines, my hands are bleeding from working the pick-axe so much and with little or no breaks in our shift. I can't even wash the coal dust from my hands anymore. A thick layer of grime has attached itself to the underside of my nails like it's trying to turn me into rock as well.

I work my fingers to the bone while Peeta looks like a shiny new coin. His blond hair shines golden in the sunlight - sunlight which my eyes can barely take in anymore because they're so used to the dark recesses of the mines. It's like getting stabbed right in the brain whenever I'm in the sunlight too long now. But Katniss' Golden Boy will never know how that feels. He is sunlight and I am darkness. Is it any wonder she fell for him?

I've spent so much time brooding on the way things have turned out that it consumes me. I know it isn't what she'd want, but what am I supposed to do? Katniss is all I've ever known. All I've wanted.

She's strong. She's brave. And she twitches her nose like a rabbit when she gets riled up. Does he know that? He must. We've both loved the same woman for a long while now. She used to be mine. I had my chance before the Reaping took her. Why did I wait so long to tell her how I feel? Why didn't I volunteer to take Peeta's place? It should have been me protecting her!

Because I had to protect her family. If I'd even tried to go in with her, she'd never had forgiven me. No, I was screwed either way. I did the right thing and I still lost her. Fuck my life.

"Gale, you need to eat."

I wave away the bowl of stew my mother, Hazel, keeps trying to offer me. It's a watered down mixture of potato and rabbit - gifts from Katniss. I can't eat a bite of it. Not while the television is going on about her wedding dresses.

"I'm not hungry," I lie and will my stomach to stop rumbling. I'm not fooling my mother. She frowns at me in her concerned way, but she doesn't press. She just sits the bowl and a spoon down on the table in front of me, knowing I'll eat it when my stomach over-rules my stubbornness.

"And you can now vote for your final pick!" Caesar Flickerman is grinning so wildly that his teeth are sparkling for the cameras. The Capitol has never been so pleased. They've never had a public wedding before - and never thought to have one for Victors of the Hunger Games. It's all a big show for them.

"Won't they be surprised?" I grumble as the broadcast switches over to the President's mansion for another Announcement.

"By what, Gale?" My mother asks but I shake my head. "Nevermind." It's not for me to say and Katniss doesn't even know I know.

"… will be drawn from the pool of existing Victors…"

My attention snaps back to the broadcast. "What did he just say?"

My mother stands up and turns the volume up. But I heard the President correctly. This year, for the Quarter Quell, the tributes will be pulled from the existing pool of Victors. One man and one woman from each district.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I groan.

"Gale!"

I track him down three days before the Reaping is to take place. It's Sunday, my only day off, and I've been stalking the town all day looking for him. I'd have gone straight to his house in the Victor's Village, but I didn't want to run into Katniss. I'm resolute in what I've got to do.

"So," I step into Peeta's path as he's exiting the Bakery, his arms laden with sacks of sugar and a can of lard. He looks stunned to see me. Good. "What are you waiting for, exactly?"

"Pardon?" He blinks those pretty blue eyes at me, utterly oblivious to why I would be here now - talking to him of all people. He knows I loath him.

"The wedding?" I snap at him irritably and dawn flashes in his eyes. I watch his own anger rising to the surface.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I think we can say the wedding is off."

"The hell it is."

Peeta tries to side step me, but he's weighed down by his parcels and I walk right back into his path. He grits his teeth and flips back his head, tossing some of that golden hair out of his eyes.

"Move," he snaps at me. "I've got things to do."

It dawns on me then that maybe Peeta isn't as smart as I've given him credit for. Could it be that Peeta has no idea what's happened to Katniss? No. Every man in town has taken notice of some change in her. Peeta sees her practically every day. He can't be that oblivious. Still, he's playing pretty dumb if he does know.

I glance down the street, aware that people are staring at us. I edge closer and drop my voice to a whisper.

"Katniss is pregnant, you nit wit."

Peeta's eyes snap into a glare. He's angry with me. So - he does know. "Walk with me." He tosses the can of lard into my stomach and I have no choice but to follow him back to his house.

I've never been inside of Peeta's home. It's unnervingly clean for a bachelor. The only hint of a mess is in the kitchen where the counter is crowded with bowls covered in dishcloth and the island is caked in flour. There's a partial wedge of cheese lying on a grater atop a plate. It looks like it's been recently used. He's been busy.

Peeta drops the sack of sugar onto an empty bit of counter and motions for me to sit the can into the panty and ushers me to take a seat at his table. I'm surprised when Peeta pulls two glasses from his cupboard and pours each a quarter full with a clear liquid that smells suspiciously like rubbing alcohol. It's white liquor. Who knew he had it in him?

"I swiped a bottle while I was cleaning out Haymitch's house," he admits a bit sheepishly as he sits down across the table from me.

"To the happy family," I have to rub it in - just one more time while I can. I watch Peeta's face sag. I take a sip of the white liquor for good measure to my toast.

"I'm not an idiot," Peeta reproaches me. I want to argue, but I'm sure I'll get my chance. "But, she hasn't come to me herself."

"Typical Katniss," I snort and take another sip. "Do you honestly expect her to?"

"I hoped-"

"Then you don't know her half as well as I do," I snap. "She's going to sit in her house and pretend it hasn't happened because her whole focus will be on keeping you alive."

"I know that…"

"Then use your fucking head, Peeta!" I know I'm being gruff with him, but I have to be. She chose him and he doesn't know the first thing about how she operates. He's easy for her to evade because he lets her. I wouldn't let her… maybe that's why… no. I'm not going there.

Peeta winces and sinks back in his chair. "What would you do?"

"I'd be over there telling her that I'm aware of what I'd - we'd done. I'd take full responsibility. I'd be gathering her closest friends and family for their support and I'd marry her with them as my witnesses."

Peeta mulls my words over for a few silent minutes. He tosses back his glass and winces when he swallows. "Even if it's not what she wants?"

"Especially." I nod.

I see a flicker of understanding in his eyes and, I hate to admit it, I feel a comradery with him. We both love the same pig-headed woman. A woman who would run into Death's arms just to keep those she loves safe. No matter the cost or harm to herself.

"Will you make me a promise, Gale?"

My eye twitches. He's asking me for a promise? What could he possibly want from me?

"Gale," Peeta says my name with such pleading that I can't help but listen silently. "If Haymitch is chosen, I'm going to volunteer and I don't intend coming out of there. Whatever it costs."

"I know that-"

"And-" he cuts me off. "I need you to promise me that you will watch over them… when I'm gone."

I stare at him completely dumbfounded. Is he really asking this of me?

"Why me?"

Peeta smiles ruefully. "Because you're the only one that will love them as much as I do. Promise."

What can I possibly say? If I say no, I'm abandoning my best friend and forgoing a man's dying wishes. If I say yes, I'm committing my life to raising his child. The child that I wish were mine.

I've spent the last several months loathing the man in front of me. He has everything I've ever wanted. He's beaten the odds. He has my girl. He has the life that I will never have. But there's a good chance that it won't be a very long life. I see a glimmer of hope on the horizon as sick as it seems. I still have hope.

"I promise."


	5. Chapter 5 - Surprise!

**Thanks for the reviews and comments.  
**

_Katniss –_

Every bone in my body aches, and my stomach is growling ferociously. Ever since the announcement of the Quarter Quell, Peeta has been on my (and Haymitch's) butt. He expects us to be prepared - like the careers. He's determined that one of us will come out alive. There is little time for rest, but my body is disagreeing with me. I'm sore and I'm hungry. Seriously hungry. And there's only one thing on my mind. Cheese biscuits.

The buns Peeta makes are warm and soft. He seems to always have a new batch in the oven and I never complain. The cheese is salty with a slight bitter after-taste, but it goes deliciously well with the savory dough. It's not the hard grain that we've been accustomed to as tessera rations. This is whole grain - real wheat and barley kernels scattered throughout the mix. But he isn't baking cheese biscuits when I show up at his door two days before the Reaping.

The kitchen smells of cinnamon, sugar and vanilla. Sweet smells like cake or cookies. Is he seriously celebrating our last two days of freedom?

I can't hide the disappointment as I call up his stairs, "Peeta? Are you here?" Of course he must be. The oven is still going.

I hear the soft padding of feet - more than just one set - and I hear someone shush another. My hand grips the banister. Is there someone else here?

The pang of hurt I feel is whisked away to the back of my mind as annoyance jumps to the forefront. Why isn't he answering me?

"Peeta?" I call again, this time louder.

I hear voices whisper again, but they're too soft for me to hear. Annoyance is replaced by fear. I'm without my bow and arrows in the District - they are far out of my reach with the electrified fence between us. I grab a knife from the kitchen counter and I'm running up the stairs. The door at the end of the hall is cracked open and I slowly edge my way towards it.

"Peeta?" I grasp the knife tight in my hand and push open the door and brace myself to pounce. But I'm not prepared for what I find.

Haymitch is standing frozen in the middle of Peeta's room, dressed in his finest suit. He's even got a tie on; but it's not his appearance that knocks me for a loop. It's the man standing beside him in front of Peeta's floor length mirror.

I wouldn't have recognized him, except for the coy smile he gives me when he turns to face me. Dressed in one of Haymitch's sleek black shirts and dress pants, with his dark hair neatly combed and his olive skin cleaner than I've ever seen, is my best friend - Gale Hawthorne.

All the words have gone completely from my brain. I stare, like a dumbstruck child at the two of them. But what are they doing here? And where is Peeta?

"I told you she'd skip out on training," Haymitch snorts when I don't speak. "You planning on stabbing us, Sweetheart? Cause that'll cost you. These are my best outfits." That snaps me back to my senses.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Oof," Haymitch looks at the ceiling and then back at me. "You weren't supposed to see us."

Haymitch is obviously not being of help. I look to Gale for my answers. He hates Peeta. Why is he here, in Peeta's bedroom with Haymitch of all people. "Gale?"

Gale's chissled jaw flexes into a scowl. "Can't he do anything right?"

"Sure he can," Haymitch butts in. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now. You would too if you were in his position."

I think I hear Gale mutter, "But I'm not" but I can't be sure because none of their words are making sense to me. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. "Okay… where is Peeta?"

The door downstairs opens. There are voices, excited voices. I guess half a dozen people have just come in. I look back to Haymitch.

"What is going on?"

Haymitch grins at me. "Surprise."

I'm angry. They've all been conspiring behind my back. My mother, Prim, Haymitch, Madge, even Gale, they were all in on it. Helping Peeta to pull it off without my knowing.

"How long have you known?"

I'm sitting on Peeta's bed, hiding from the group of people downstairs. They're all down there, dressed in their finest clothes. Their conversations cut off the moment Peeta shut the door, but I can feel them staring, even if it's from below. They have me trapped like a rabbit in one of Gale's snares.

"Months," Peeta admits. He's dressed in a blue silk shirt and a gray suit jacket. They make his blue eyes sparkle. His blond hair is neatly combed and smoothed back from his face. I don't object when he joins me on the bed.

I dreaded this day. From the moment I knew I was destined to step back into the Arena, I knew I couldn't tell him, but he knows already. He's known and said nothing - waiting for me to come to him, but my time is up.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

I shake my head. I didn't want to give him one more reason to try to protect me. It doesn't matter what happens on Reaping Day, I am going back. I am as good as dead. I don't want to hurt him more than I have to.

"Katniss, let me do what's right."

"What's right?" I snort venomously. "Peeta, I've got Snow's target on my back. How long do you think I'm going to last in the Arena?"

"You might not even have to set foot in the Arena," Peeta argues. "Maybe they'll make an exception for you, for the baby. Maybe they'll send Haymitch and I in your stead."

I laugh. An honest to God laugh. Snow would never make such an exception for me.

Peeta takes my hands in his. "Fine. If you won't consider the possibility, consider what I'm asking of you."

I look down at his hands. They're soft but strong. They encompass the both of mine in their warmth and I'm drawn back in my mind to the nights on the train. Those hands wrapped around me in the dark. "And what are you asking me?"

Peeta places his right hand under my chin and he gently guides me to stare up into his blue irises. "I love you, Katniss. I love you more than anyone else in my life. I would die for you."

"I know that…"

"Then marry me."

I've been expecting the words ever since I shooed Haymitch and Gale from the room, but they still catch me off-guard. Marriage? In two days I will be on the stairs of Hall of Justice watching Effie pull my solitary name from a giant glass bowl. It is my death warrant. All pretense of a Capitol Wedding will be gone, but Peeta still wants to go through with the charade anyways?

"We don't have to keep playing their game," I tell him and I quickly regret it. I've hurt him again, I can see it in the way that his eyes dilate and then refocus, resolutely on me.

"This isn't for them, Katniss," Peeta tells me, lowering his face towards mine. His lips brush my ear. "This is for us."

I feel a ripple run from my head to the tips of my toes. It's a fire burning through my veins. A headiness that I recall easily because I've yearned for it every night since our last in the Capitol. It's a longing that I can't quench on my own. It's a hunger for the man in front of me. I'll never get enough and our time is too short. So why am I fighting it?

My hands rise up and wrap around Peeta, drawing him into me. His hands are in my hair as I lean in and press my lips to his.

"Is that a yes?" Peeta asks timidly, his breath hot against my cheek.

"…yes," I whisper before his lips find mine again.


	6. Chapter 6 - Down in the Valley

_Gale – _

It's stiflingly hot in Peeta's living room. I can feel the rivulets of sweat dripping down my arms and into my clammy palms. The collar of Haymitch's shirt is too tight. I fidget with the silver clasp, unbuttoning it so that I can breath, ignoring the shrewd look of disapproval that my mother shoots my way. But she has no room to talk. I'm here, aren't I?

Posy tugs at my sleeve, trying to get my attention. I look down into her gray eyes which are wide with wonder beneath the curly pigtails our mother has arranged in ringlets around her cherubic face. "When's Katniss coming down?"

I take her small hand in mine and give her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Soon, Poppet," I tell her, though I'm uncertain if Katniss will ever emerge from the top of the stairs.

It's been two hours since Peeta arrived with the Wedding Party and there hasn't been a peep since they shut the door upstairs. Prim and Madge have been entertaining my sister and brothers, but their patience is nearing the breaking point. Haymitch has even thrown himself in the ring, offering to play cards with Rory and Vick to keep them from tearing Peeta's house apart.

"We should sing a song," Mrs Everdeen suggests when Posy begins to chew on the sleeve of her dress. Her pale blond hair is braided atop her head in the fashion she did for Katniss at last year's Reaping. She looks decades younger than I've ever seen her. Despite the worry I know she's facing with the upcoming Reaping, there is a smile in her eyes. Her powder-blue dress floats around her as she bends down and takes Posy's hand in hers, guiding her over to my mother

_Down in the valley, the valley so low_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_

_Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow;_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow._

Posy curls herself onto our mother's lap on the sofa. Her tiny hands wrap into Mother's hair as her bright eyes stare in adoration at Mrs Everdeen and Primrose who joins in the song. I'm reminded of all the times Mr Everdeen used to sing in town. How a mousy, wide-eyed Katniss used to trail at his hip. She inherited his voice. The song reminds me painfully of another thing I'll miss.

_Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,_

_Angels in Heaven know I love you,_

_Know I love you, dear, know I love you,_

_Angels in Heaven know I love you._

A sharp creek draws my eyes to the top of the staircase. Peeta makes his way down alone, but I can see her silhouette at the top of the landing. He gives everyone a smile, but doesn't interrupt the song as he makes his way towards me. We exchange handshakes, a silent passing of the torch. The signal I've been dreading all day long as the rest of the room takes up the song.

_If you don't love me, love whom you please,_

_Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease,_

_Give my heart ease, dear, give my heart ease,_

_Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease_

My feet feel heavy as stone as I make my way to the base of the stairs. The whole of the world is crashing in on me, and then she's there. My gut wrenches as Katniss steps into the light. She's wearing a simple, off-white dress that goes just down to her calves. It's old - a relic of her mother's past - decorated with bits of lace and pearl-white buttons. It gathers tightly around her belly where her baby is beginning to show. I swallow hard and remind myself to breath as I hold my arm out to her.

_Build me a castle, forty feet high;_

_So I can see her as she rides by,_

_As she rides by, dear, as she rides by,_

_So I can see her as she rides by._

He's standing only five feet away, but every step is like dragging a cartload of coal on my own. The Mountain Hymn is like a death march to my ears. I am leading my friend, the woman I love, away from me forever. Worse - I agreed to this madness.

"Breathe, Gale," Katniss whispers in my ear and I feel my heart flutter wildly underneath Haymitch's silk shirt.

When we reach the center of the living room, I look to Mayor Undersee first. He gives me a kind smile and a nod of approval. I look to Katniss who gives me an encouraging nod and then I look at Peeta. He looks… sad? Yes. There is sadness in his blue eyes. For me? I don't need his pity. I agreed to do this. Not for him. For her.

I roll back my shoulders and lift my head high. This is what I can do for her. This is what she needs from me because her father cannot.

Peeta outstretches his hands and I slip Katniss from mine. Slowly and deliberately, I place her hands into his. I bow my head to her and step back into the audience of friends and family. I join the others in the final verse as I fight the tears that threaten to come.

_Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,_

_Angels in Heaven know I love you,_

_Know I love you, dear, know I love you,_

_Angels in Heaven know I love you._

_Katniss – _

My head is spinning. I've never thought it was possible to be both happy and miserable at the same time.

I take the pen from Mayor Undersee's hand and I sign my name next to Peeta's. Madge and Gale sign their names along with our parents and Hazelle as legal witnesses. Everything is final. He's left no T's uncrossed.

"By the power vested in me, as Mayor of District 12, I pronounce you man and wife."

The room erupts with cheers and congratulations as Peeta sweeps me into his arms. His lips are on mine, brandishing me with the power of his devotion to me. He did this all for me. For us. I don't know how I can even begin to repay him. I don't deserve this.

The ceremony isn't complete without our Toasting. I'm embarrassed by this part. More than I was to be paraded through Peeta's living room by my best friend in front of our friends and family. But this is tradition in District 12.

Prim helps me to lower myself onto the edge of the hearth while my mother and Peeta's father retrieve the loaf of bread from the kitchen. They hand the plate and a bread knife to Peeta, clearly not trusting me with it. I wonder if anyone's still scared I might stab them and run off - never to be seen again.

The loaf is a thick rectangle with a mushroom-like top. While Peeta slices into it, Peeta's mother hands me a toasting fork. I've never cared for the woman, she's always been so harsh with Peeta - not at all like her husband - yet she gives me the tiniest of smiles as she backs away to re-join her children. I'm not keen on the toasting fork. We rarely had bread to toast in our house. I can roast a rabbit or a squirrel. But how is a slice of bread supposed to stay on this thing?

As though reading my mind, Peeta hands me a slice that is nearly two inches thick.

"Is this cheating?" I ask him as I slide the tongs into the crust.

"Who's going to tell on us?" Peeta winks and leans in for another kiss to a chorus of soppy adorations from our audience.

He takes my hand in his and we guide the fork over the coals in the fireplace. Within seconds, I begin to smell cinnamon and vanilla. The sweet fragrance makes my stomach rumble, but the toast isn't ready. My arm wavers in frustration, but Peeta slides close to me, wrapping one arm around my stomach while the other helps to hold the iron toasting fork. I watch silently as the underside of the bread begins to brown. Gently, Peeta turns the rod - rotating the brown side to be up. I lean against him, my head nuzzled against his shoulder as I watch his steady hands. So sure of what they're doing. I feel warm and safe here and I pray that this moment will go on forever, but too soon he's guiding the fork away from the embers. There's just one thing left to make the night official.

Peeta cuts the bread into two shares, handing one to me. I see now the bits of raisin that have been combined into the dough. He's gone all out. Raisins? They had to have cost half his monthly earnings to acquire.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers my name, drawing my attention back to him. I watch the embers flicker warmly in his eyes as he smiles at me. "I promise to love and to cherish you from this day forward." He offers me a bit of the bread in his hands and I accept.

My mouth is flooded with a sensation of bliss. The cooked raisins are tangy and the cinnamon and sugar are sinfully sweet. It's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. He did this. All of this.

"Peeta…" I'm at a loss for words. My mind is swimming with the millions of things I've wanted and needed to tell him. But I know that nothing I say will ever be enough. "I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you…"

It's not an eloquent sentiment of endless devotion like Peeta's vows were, but he understands me all the same. My confession cuts to the core of who I am. I'll never stop owing him, but I can give him this. I can give him me.

**Lyrics from "Down in the Valley"/"Birmingham Jail" **

_**I thought it was a fitting Traditional song that might have survived for the Mountain Folk of District 12. **_

_**Edit 04/17/14 - Please visit my Profile and take the Poll at the top. Poll will come down 04/19/14 **_


	7. Chapter 7 - Reaping Day

_**Keeping the story together it is! Thanks for voting and Happy Oestra!** _

_Gale –_

There is little time to celebrate the union of the new couple in District 12. They have one day together before the camera crews arrive with Effie Trinket and the Town Square becomes the center of attention. Reaping Day has come.

There are no lines of kids being checked into the Capitol's books this year. We have been given a reprieve from watching children die on the Broadcast. This year we will lose our Victors. The ones who already persevered through the Capitol's games.

I'm allowed to stand with Katniss' mother and sister. My own mother watches over my brothers and sisters at the back of the crowd. I am glad that they, at least, will be safe. But I am angry that Katniss is being subjected to this again.

Katniss stands alone on the right side of the stage. Her hair is in a simple braid which falls over her right shoulder. She's dressed in a plain, black shirt and khaki pants. The outfit hangs loosely and I wager that her clothing choice is more to do with hiding her baby than a fashion statement.

I look to the left side of the stage where Haymitch and Peeta stand side by side. I'm still not keen on their plan, but it's out of my hands now.

"You can't tell them at the Reaping." Haymitch was adamant on that point. "They can cut the feed with a snap of their fingers, whisk you inside a Capitol Hospital and take care of their problem then and there."

I felt sick to my stomach. "They'd do that? Against her will?"

Haymitch tossed back a tumbler of white liquour. He'd found the bottle Peeta had stolen in the cupboard while he was busy Toasting with Katniss. "Without blinking."

Peeta's face had paled. "So, when?"

"The interviews."

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Haymitch, that's four weeks from now. I can barely hide it as is. Look at me!"

"Oh I am, Sweetheart."

I wanted to smack the smug smile off Haymitch's face. The way he looked at her was slimy. Peeta's hand on my shoulder was all that prevented me from clocking him.

"Cinna can help," Peeta told Katniss. "He'd do just about anything for you. He'll be on our side. If anyone can help us, he can."

Katniss bit her lip as she thought about what they were asking her. It seemed like a long stretch, even to me. You had to be blind not to see how far along she was. But the Capitol did have a plethora of stylists. If anyone could help her, Cinna could.

That was the night of the Toasting. The last night we all had without the Capitol pressing in on our backs. Our time is up.

Effie Trinket, dressed in her garish Capitol clothes and a pile of golden hair, steps up to the glass bowl which contains a single envelope. No one is surprised when Katniss' name is read out loud. The only disapproval uttered is when Haymitch's name comes out of the men's bowl and Peeta jumps to volunteer. No one wants to see the Star Crossed Lovers to be pitted against each other again.

Prim, Mrs Everdeen, and I are silent as we stare at the platform. Then we do the only thing we can with the Peacekeeper's breathing down our necks. In unison, we kiss our index, middle and ring-fingers and hold them high in salute.

As the crowd begins to echo our good-bye, the Peacekeeper's break their silence. They are heading into the crowd, batons drawn.

"I get to say good-bye!" I hear Katniss shriek as she and the others on the platform are shoved inside the building and the doors are sealed. They are gone and we are to pay for our gesture.

The crowd is being herded together like cattle. There is panic and fear as people are packed together. I know that Prim and Mrs Everdeen are my responsibility now. I wrap my arms around them and plunge into the crowd, ducking around people and pushing, trying to get away from the Peacekeepers.

Peacekeepers. The word is like poison in my mouth. Suppressors. Enforcers. There is nothing Peaceful in what they do.

I hear the cries of men and women as they are beat into the dirt and I shove the women in front of me, pushing further into the throng. We have to get away. I have to get them to safety. But where is safe anymore?

We get to the back of the crowd and my heart rises up in my throat. More Peacekeeper's bar our way. A man and a woman block an alleyway that leads out of the square, back towards the burned out Hob. To my complete surprise, they look at Mrs Everdeen and Primrose and they stand aside, ushering us through. I can't believe our luck!

"Andrica," Prim tells me as we duck down a side-street, looping around to make for the Victor's Village. "Mother treated her for a burn she got when they were repairing the fence. Thread won't let any of the District 12 Peacekeeper's have access to their medical supplies. He thinks they're lower than dirt. Thinks they've all gone soft for the Natives."

For us, she means. Andrica and her partner are like Darius, then. The man who tried to step in during my lashing. They are sympathizers. That means they are a liability to the Capitol. I haven't seen Darius since my beating and I wonder what punishment Thread has given him. I can't believe I'm feeling sympathetic for one of _them. _

The screaming from the town square lasts for hours. Even when I have secured Prim and Mrs Everdeen back in their home, we can hear them. As night draws in, the fires start. I am fearful for my own family, but Mrs Everdeen insists that I stay put until daybreak. It is a long night of smoke and screaming and fear and anger. We don't know what's going on until the bodies begin to arrive on the doorstep.

The Peacekeepers beat the crowd into submission and rounded up those that dared to fight back. Three of my mining crew are in the stocks by daylight alongside six other men and women who were charged with varying degrees of resistance. But at least they are still alive. One man was shot in the fray when he tried to run from Thread. Three young children were trampled in the panic.

My stomach drops when I hear this and I think of Rory, Vick and Posy. But I have little time to dwell as I am put to work by Mrs Everdeen and Prim, helping to clean and care for the wounded. Each injury I see is added to the list of reasons I hate the Capitol. These people didn't deserve this.

My mother arrives just after sunrise with my brothers and Posy. I wrap them in my arms, kissing the tops of their heads. How am I going to keep everyone safe? It was simple before. All I had to do was hunt and trade. But I can't do that now and the Peacekeeper's are itching for a fight. There is only one thing I can do. I have to behave.

I look down into the gray eyes of my little sister. They're wet with tears as she clings onto me.

"I thought they'd taken you away! We heard the shots! I was so scared!"

It pains me as I kneel down so that we are face to face. I hate to give into this. I know it's wrong, but I'm only one man and two families rely on me. I can't be the one rallying behind the Capitol's backs. I've taken too many risks all ready. I've placed them all in danger.

"I promise you'll never have to worry about me again, Posy," I say as I take her small hands in mine. I am resolved to follow my promise, but it makes me feel hollow inside. I know that it's wrong, but it's all I can do. For them.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Capitol

_**Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter! I promise more to come later this week/weekend. I have a couple projects due aaand I added a new puppy to the family. So I've had my hands a bit full. So, still kicking but busy! Sorry again!**_

_Katniss –_

I awake in Peeta's arms. I want to shut my eyes and go back to sleep, but I can't. The nightmares have become worse since the Reaping. Every time I close my eyes, I see Rue's face. Her eyes stare up at me as the life drains away until those wide brown eyes become glassy and stare into nothingness. She was too young to die.

My stomach flips and I flinch, startling Peeta from his sleep.

"Katniss? Are you all right?"

My hands flutter over my stomach, over the bulge that has swollen to the size of a small basketball. Cinna has been clever, hiding me in swaths of cloth as Haymitch dictated; but this secret will be out in the open by the end of tomorrow night.

"Are you sick?" Peeta's hand brushes my forehead, checking for a fever. But I'm fine.

"I felt him kick," I tell him sheepishly, already feeling guilty for waking him. We have little time for rest now. We'll be in the arena by the end of the week.

Peeta shifts onto his elbow, propping himself up on the pillows so that he can look down at me. His eyes sparkle with the hint of a smile, but I can see the worry in the blue depths.

"Him?" He asks, with a smile.

I can't explain it, but something deep in my soul says that the baby I carry is a boy. He'll have golden hair like his father, but share my smoky eyes. I see him too in my nightmares. I see him being chosen in a Reaping not too far off. Twelve years old, the child of two Victors. His face is everywhere, he's the star of the Games. All eyes are on him as he takes up a bow, like his mother, and follows the other lambs to the slaughter. I see his death as well. Just like Rue. I see a net dropping on him unaware and another tribute taking his chance. The spear goes right through his chest and his gray eyes go glossy. That's the future of my son.

But I can't tell Peeta any of this. He'll tell me I'm only dreaming. He'll tell me that there's only a slim chance his name would come out of the bowl at the Reaping. That our child, unlike the many unfortunate of District 12, will never have to sign up for tesserae. But I know how to counter such an argument. Look at what happened to Peeta. The odds weren't in his favor. Were they?

So instead I stuff the fears to the back of my mind and I force myself to smile.

"Mhmm," I tell him. I take his hand and place it on my stomach, covering it with my own. Just then I feel another bump from inside. "Do you feel him?"

Peeta's eyes go wide with wonder. He shifts and lowers himself to plant a lingering kiss on my lips. I savor his touch and the salty taste. I will never have enough time to enjoy him.

My hands slide into his hair, caressing his neck and pulling him closer to me. I feel the heat blossoming inside of me as his hands caress my side and slip under my silk nightshirt to massage my chest. I press myself against him, willing him to make love to me.

"I love you," he breaths as we slip into another sleepless night.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too," I snap at Haymitch as I pile my plate with sausage and pancakes. As always, the Capitol has spared no expense for its Tributes. The Avoxes bring a banquet of food to every meal. This breakfast table alone could feed District 12 for a month. But I try not to think of that as I slather my pancakes with syrup.

Effie isn't as easy to brush off. She gives both Peeta and I her scrutinizing glare down the bridge of her pointed nose as soon as Peeta emerges from my bedroom. He looks just as tired with dark bags under his eyes and his hair a tousled mess. It actually makes me smile.

"Really!" She scolds as Peeta sinks into his chair at the table. "What would your parents think, the two of you carrying on like this? You're not even married yet!"

"Let the kids have a few minutes of happiness," Haymitch tells her. "They're as good as dead."

Effie snorts her disapproval. Usually Haymitch takes her side; but this Hunger Games has him on edge too. I wanted to tell her everything, but we don't know yet whose side she's on. It hasn't been easy since she's always got her nose following us around. My clothes are baggy enough to fit another person inside of them. Thankfully, the Interviews are tonight. Then the jig will be up and the ball will be in Snow's court.

Like it or not, tonight will be the moment of truth. Will Snow send me into the Arena? Will the people revolt? I don't hold much hope at this point.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Interview

_**Still a wee bit busy, but I hope the wait is worth it!**_

_Katniss –_

"Stop fidgeting!"

I glare daggers at Cinna as he finishes putting the final touches on my Interview costume. I've been patient for the last nine hours while my styling crew diligently worked me over - scrubbing, buffing and polishing every inch of my skin. It's a real testament of their loyalty to Cinna (or could it be to me?) that not a single one has let my secret slip. I imagine Cinna gave them each a stern talking to prior to accepting them again as my crew. He did about their constant wailing at my lot in the Quell.

"I can't help it. I'm hungry."

My stomach is rumbling again, despite the snack of dried apricots and cashews I snagged before Cinna stuffed me into this foofy get-up.

"You'll make it," Cinna tells me encouragingly as he mists hair-spray over the elaborate do he's constructed on my head. "Just remember, this is your night. Both of yours."

I get his meaning.

This is the night of the Interview. My one and only chance to save myself and my baby. It's been Haymitch's master plan for the big reveal to take place tonight when the whole of Panem will be tuned into the broadcast. Millions of people who will have no choice but to stare at my stomach and know what a monster Snow really is. I thought Cinna was supposed to be helping us, but he's stuffed me into a white dress with so many plumes of taffeta and lace that you'd never even know I had legs.

"Right… and this dress is going to do that for me, how?"

Cinna locks his eyes on mine. I know that he means business when he asks, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

Cinna leads me down the elevator and to the backstage area where the Tributes slowly filter in, all dressed to the nines. It's the night for everyone to shine, but it's obvious that all eyes are on me.

"A wedding dress?" Joanna Mason snorts as she passes me in the queue to the stage.

"Snow made me," I tell her as I grit my teeth. I really don't like Joanna. There's something… off about her.

I have to keep myself from flinching back when she leans in to me and whispers, "Make him pay for it." We share a look, a fleeting truce of understanding. She doesn't want to be here either. No one does.

A pair of arms slip around my waist and I stiffen. Hot breath hisses against my ear. "You look amazing."

I spin on my high-heel and slap the smarmy and stunned face of Finnick Odair - Tribute from District Four. He's been playing this game with me since I arrived. Always trying to fluster me, to find a chink in my armor. He's handsome, I'll give him that, but no one has the right to touch me like this - save one.

"I'd advise you to let go of my fiancé."

Finnick flashes me a smile as Peeta appears behind him. He gives me a wink before patting my belly and turning to face Peeta.

"Just giving Katniss a friendly hug." He raises his hands up in a sign of surrender. "No harm meant."

I glare at Odair's retreating back as he disappears into the crowd. I'm relieved only when Peeta slips his arm into mine.

"Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. "He just caught me off guard. You know how he likes to poke fun at me."

I chew on my lower lip and Peeta's brow creases. I know that look. He knows I'm worried about something and that makes him worried. Ordinarily, he'd tell me I'm overreacting, but I know what I just saw. Finnick _knows_. How does he know?

"Katniss Everdeen!"

I hear the crowd erupt with cheers and I barely register that it's my turn. Peeta nudges me gently and my legs wobble for the stairs.

I'm blinded by the flash bulbs of cameras in the crowd and the glare of the set lights. Not to mention the shimmer of Caesar Flickerman's get-up. The moment of truth has arrived. There's no going back.

_Gale -_

"She looks amazing!"

I snort, barely able to contain my laughter as I shove a few kernels of popcorn into my mouth. I've never seen a more ridiculous costume on a Tribute in my entire life. And I've seen a lot of games.

It's Friday night, the eve of the Hunger Games Interviews with host Caesar Flickerman. Everyone in Panem is clustered around their televisions or gathered in the town square to watch it on the big screen. District 12 is silent. Everyone is inside, no one dares to gather after what happened at the Reaping. We are a subdued people. Just the way the Capitol wants it.

Mrs Everdeen and Primrose have invited my family and I to their place to watch the games. I have no reason to refuse and I'm eager to see Katniss. Knowing that her time may be running short, I can't pull myself away from the sadistic events playing out on the television.

There she is, Katniss Everde- Mellark, dressed in a gown of white. Her torso is wrapped in swaths of satin which appears to be floating on a cloud of lace and taffeta. She looks like an angel… and nervous. I get nervous for her as well when I see her hands shake.

"Would you like me to spin for you?" Katniss beams brightly, a young woman putting on a show for the rabid crowd.

"Oh, do!" Caesar claps his hands like a jubilant child.

Katniss is on her feet and she begins to spin. And then it happens. The white burns away revealing an ash-colored gown beneath. It clings to her figure, revealing every mature curve and when she spreads her arms wide, they are draped by a cape designed to look like…

"Wings," Katniss tells Caesar Flickerman. "It's a Mockingjay."

But that's not only what has the crowd talking. Caesar's eyes flicker from her wings to her belly as though he, for once, is at a loss for words. But a stage hand swoops in and sweeps Katniss off. Her interview is over and the cameras purposely close up on her top-half. Did the audience at least notice?

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Caesar laughs as he addresses the crowd. They seem rowdier than usual.

"They know." Prim is beaming with joy.

"They know her belly is swollen," I agree. "But they purposefully didn't let her get another word in to confirm it."

But Katniss doesn't need to tell them. Snow has forgotten who the final Interviewee is.

When Peeta takes the stage, I feel my heart skip a beat. I want to howl and cheer. Prim saves me the indignity of it by whooping as Peeta lets the cat out of the bag.

The whole crowd is in an uproar. People are on their feet shouting at Caesar to cancel the games! Their fists are pumping in the air and I can even make out what some of them are saying.

"Barbaric!"

"The shame!"

"Let them go!"

The Tributes are on stage behind Caesar as he tries to quiet the crowd, but they won't be silenced. One by one, the Tributes link hands in a sign of solidarity. All save one. Peeta stands at the end of the line, slightly askew. His arms are crossed around his wife's belly as though in protection. When he lowers his head against hers, the screen goes black.

"What the hell?" Prim jumps to her feet.

I shakes my head, a grin that no one can wipe away is plastered on my lips. "It's too late. Everyone saw."


	10. Chapter 10 - Fall Out

_Katniss -_

My palms are clammy and cold even with Peeta's warm ones wrapped around them. I can't stop trembling.

"Just stay calm," Peeta whispers in my ear. His warm breath tickles my ear, sending a million tingles down my spine. I wish I could relax, but I can't.

Haymitch's plan went off as he intended, but none of us could have foreseen the outcome. The blow back. I can hear the citizens of the Capitol still screaming in the streets below the Tribute Center. The whole building shudders as another Peacekeeper plane flies over. Even through the glass, we can hear the sound of the megaphone.

"Attention all citizens! The Capitol is now under curfew! Anyone who does not vacate the streets in ten minutes will be arrested for causing a disturbance to the peace! Clear the streets!"

Disturbance to the peace. I actually snort at that. The true culprits behind the disturbance are sitting in the penthouse of the Tribute Center, awaiting to hear our punishment. They didn't even let Effie return with us. I hope she made it home all right.

"The baby bomb was genius," Haymitch reassures me and I have to bite back the words I want to throw at him. Bomb is right. "The ball's in their court now. Now we just wait."

Waiting. Waiting to see if I live or die. Waiting to see if he lives or dies. I hate waiting.

The hiss of the apartment door opening turns every head. An escort of four Peacekeepers marches into our sitting room and fans out, making room for Plutarch Heavensbee (the new Game Keeper) and President Snow. I hate both of these men.

"Interesting show you gave us this evening." Plutarch is the first to address us. He actually looks amused when he says this. A big smile plasters his bulbous face as he clasps his hands together. "Biggest audience ratings in years."

President Snow flashes him a scowl, but it doesn't dampen Plutarch's mood. Quite the opposite, Plutarch steps forward with an outstretched palm to me, as though he wants to shake hands.

I look at Peeta who just shrugs and nods. I extend a nervous hand towards Plutarch and he grasps mine firmly in his while he reveals a black cylinder in his left. He prods my hand with it and I flinch as it bites into my palm. He laughs when I jerk my hand away and Peeta and Haymitch leap to my defense.

The Peacekeepers take a threatening step forward but Plutarch waves them away as though they're children in a playground fight.

"Tut, tut," he scolds and waves a finger in the air at Peeta and Haymitch. "We'll have none of that. It's just a drop of blood, after all."

Just a drop of blood? My stomach rolls and I feel the need to wretch, but I can't very well run out of the room.

Plutarch rolls the cylinder over in his fingers and presses a few tiny knobs on the side. In a matter of minutes, a tiny blue light flashes on the end. This seems to make Plutarch happy because he waves the device at President Snow and cheerfully declares, "Positive. Well, there we go. No maybes about it. I believe Rudolf owes me for believing it was a pillow."

President Snow yanks the device from Plutarch's hands and glares down at the flashing blue light. He looks positively murderous. His snake-like tongue licks at his putrid red lips before he speaks.

"So, it's true."

Peeta dares to do what I cannot. I want to run away. I want to bury my head in the toilet bowl and relieve my stomach of the evening's meal. He holds his head high and looks Snow straight in the eyes.

"I wouldn't lie about this," he tells them resolutely. "We had no idea we'd be chosen for the Quarter Quell."

"No." Snow's eyebrows rise high on his brow, it's the thoughtful expression he wears when he's thinking of something particularly sinister. I've grown accustomed to that look. "Yet you could have mentioned it any time before now. Surely you've known."

Haymitch rises to our defense. He brushes a hand through his blonde hair as nonchalantly as he would speaking to his peers. His composure is astonishing to watch. "They're kids, Mr President. Dumb kids at that. I doubt Katniss noticed anything until we told her she was looking a little chubby."

You'll pay for that, I think. But I let him demean me because he's trying to save us.

"And the secret wedding?" Snow counters, a skeptical smile thinning his lips.

"We knew there'd be no time before the games," Peeta chimes in truthfully. "I love Katniss with all my heart."

"You picked the wrong one of us to depend on," I mutter. "I'm not good with showing my emotions. Peeta is."

All eyes turn on me and I know I've said the wrong thing. After Haymitch and Peeta have both tried to take the heat off of me, I just stepped into the fire.

"Miss Everdeen," Snow sneers my name, but he stops and looks thoughtfully at Peeta and I. "Or, should I say, Mrs Mellark? You've put us into a very interesting predicament."

"Oh come now," Plutarch chortles. "Let's not let them think we didn't have a backup plan. Boys and girls will be boys and girls, after all. And our Star Crossed Lovers at that. Well, we had to have -some- fall back plan just-in-case."

Could it be? Did they really consider my pregnancy a possibility? What does that mean? Why did they make me go through this? I shake my head, trying to clear the questions racing through it. I know for a fact that President Snow hates me. I know that I failed him during the Victory Tour and I know that he sees me as the symbol of some uprising, even if I have nothing to do with it. His sights have been set on me since I emerged from the Arena. So what could they possibly have in mind as a contingency?

"Indeed," Snow hisses and every nerve in my body recoils. Whatever it is they have in mind – it isn't in our favor. "Why don't you fill them in, Heavensbee?"

Plutarch seems filled to the brim with joy as he drops his own bomb on us.

"You will be the first ever married couple to enter the Arena and, seeing as you're so far along, I suspect the people of Panem will get quite the show!" He elbows my shoulder and Peeta and Haymitch lunge towards him. The Peacekeeper nearest Haymitch takes a swing and connects with his gut, knocking him to the floor. A second, near Peeta and I, pulls him into a headlock so he cannot move. They won't harm him with the Games starting tomorrow.

"Tut. Tut." Plutarch clicks his tongue. "I reassure you there will be adequate supplies in the Arena to take care of a newborn."

"If you can get to them." Snow's smile has grown from ear to ear. He's never looked so happy in all his life.

"And just think of the sensational news! Caesar is already all a twitter with thinking of catch-phrases and starting an audience poll on baby names!"

I can't believe what I'm hearing. The room becomes a steady static noise hissing in my head. The words have become completely meaningless to me as Plutarch rattles on about how the Capitol intends to capitalize on my baby. I should have known better. I should have guessed. I was so stupid.

"And just think," President Snow's cold voice emerges from the static like an alarm bell. "If they survive, your child will be the symbol for all of Panem. The ultimate symbol of the district's submission."

One day, I'm going to kill him.

******_*cackles and rubs hands together... cough cough ahem..*_**


	11. Chapter 11 - Let the Games Begin

_**I needed a little filler for later purposes. So, a little detour before the games really get going.**.._

_Katniss -_

Sunlight creeps into the bedroom windows just as my eyes begin to sag. I haven't slept a wink, caught up in my living nightmare. Even with the shelter of Peeta's arms wrapped around me, rocking me back and forth as I cry myself dry, I cannot find rest.

I never wanted children. I never expected to. One foolish night I let myself go and I placed an innocent life into my hands with no way of protecting it. I accepted my death for the sake of Peeta's, but now I have another life to consider as well and I know what Peeta will want me to do.

Under no circumstances will Peeta believe he'll leave the Arena. He'll make every attempt to shield me in the hopes that I come out alive. But we both know that, even if I do, my life is as good as over if I emerge Victor. Our child will be the property of the Capitol. Taken out on every occasion to show their power over the Districts. And his mother? If they let me live, I'll be a ghost behind him. They won't need me anymore. I can simply fade away. Or I can crush their plans before they even start.

As a shaft of sunlight touches my cheek and crawls up my face, what I must do dawns within me. Damn them all. If anyone's coming out alive, it's going to be Peeta.

There's a knock on my bedroom door. The intercom buzzes to life, jostling Peeta from the fitful sleep he's found. He rolls me onto his chest. His blue eyes search my face, drinking in every detail.

"What?" I ask him when he says nothing.

"I'm trying to burn your image into my mind. Right here, right now. My wife with the sun's golden glow on her skin."

I roll my eyes at him. Peeta's so sentimental. I don't know how he finds the strength for it at times like these. "Please."

"I mean it," Peeta cups my face with his hands and his lips press against mine and my tiredness slips away. I melt into his touch, my tongue entwining with his. But there's no time for this. Death is impatient and so is Haymitch.

"Up," Haymitch calls through the intercom. "Cinna and Portia will be here any minute."

I groan as Peeta rolls me back onto my side. He sweeps the blankets off his bare legs and climbs from my bed. I watch him intently, taking in every contour of his back and the firmness of his butt-cheeks. The weeks of training have left him in peek, sculpted, perfection; including the crevice that defines his powerful thigh. He is perfect, even with the prosthetic that the last Games left him with. All of him is beautiful and dear to me.

He looks back at me as he reaches for his pajamas on the nightstand, catching me staring at him. A slow, boyish grin crosses his face.

"What?" Its his turn now to ask me as my eyes rake over his body.

I shake my head and say the only thing I have on my mind.

"I love you."

_Gale - _

It's early morning and District 12 is starting to awaken, but it's quieter than it's ever been. The Mine and all of the shops are closed for the start of the Quarter Quell. Everyone will be expected to watch at home or at the screens erected in the town square. Though I wager no one will dare to watch in the later.

After the Reaping, the people of District 12 have been afraid to gather in large groups and the Peacekeepers like that just fine. It makes easier work for them harassing the few who do dare to venture out of their homes. I've had my fair share of threats thrown at me as I pass the square on my way to the Everdeen's home in Victor's Village. They have their eyes on me everywhere I go. I'm a marked man.

The dirt crunches beneath my worn boots as I trod my daily path towards the square. There's the usual contingency of Peacekeepers doing their morning drill – a show of strength and power. They march in lock-step – three men across. Their eyes always forward, cold and unfeeling. Showing that they are better than us. They are soldiers. We are scum.

I skirt the square, keeping to the back of the Apothecary and Baker's shops. The least notice I get, the less room there is for me to mess up and fight back. I promised to behave, but they make it so hard.

Since the Tributes left for the Capitol, the Victor's Village has been as quiet as the rest of town. There's no drunk outburst from Haymitch, no smoke coming from Peeta's busy oven. The only house that looks lived in is Katniss'. A spiral of smoke curls up from the stone chimney and I know that Mrs Everdeen and Primrose are already awake. I doubt they've slept a wink. Just as I didn't.

Prim answers the door when I knock. She's dressed in a pair of Katniss' old khakis which sag at her hips. The white blouse she wears must be one of her mother's because it's tied into a knot at her waist to take up the slack. Her blond hair is down, no more pig-tail braids for this Everdeen. Her eyes are red-rimmed and dark beneath the eyelids. She's had to grow up so fast in so little time without her big sister here to shelter her. I know Mrs Everdeen tries, but Prim has had to take up the slack that Katniss once did when her Sulk becomes too great to function. I know for a fact Primrose has been treating more than half the patients who come to their door. The innocent girl has faded into the young woman in the doorway.

Primrose throws herself at me, her branch-like arms wrapping tight around my neck as she lets loose a wild sob. She's hurt, crying like a wounded kitten in my arms and all I can do is rub her back and try to reassure her – even though we all know words are empty promises now.

"She's a fighter, Prim," I coo against the top of her head. "She's got one of the best Mentors watching her back on the outside, and I'll bet she's turned more than a head or two to watch her back inside. It's not going to be the same as last time. She's not alone."

Prim's fingers twist the fabric of my shirt into knots. She shakes her head against my chest, unwilling to relinquish her grip or look me in the face.

"They're going to die. He's going to kill them. I'll never s-s-" her voice breaks as another round of sobs overtakes her.

I don't know what to do for her. None of this knows how this is going to end. We can only hope and hope isn't much anyone can count on now-a-days.

I scoop Primrose into my arms and carry her inside, nudging the door closed with the heel of my foot. Mrs Everdeen looks on quietly from the kitchen as I place Prim on the sofa in the den and sit down beside her.

"What was it Katniss told you last year?" I ask as her crying begins to abate.

"That she's try to win... for me."

"And what happened?"

"She came home. Both of them did."

I nod. "And that's never happened before, has it?" Prim shakes her head, though she looks skeptical at what I say next. "There's never been a Tribute like Katniss before. There's never been a pregnant woman sent into the Arena. Can you imagine the support she'll have in there? The sympathy card of every mother, grandmother, or soon-to-be? Don't count them short, Prim. They're counting on us too."

Mrs Everdeen joins us with two mugs of tea. She hands one to me and the other to her daughter before she begins to dab at Prim's eyes with a handkerchief.

"Gale's right," she says reassuringly and wraps Primrose into a hug.

Mother and daughter hold onto each other so long that I feel out of place. An intruder in their home, trying to share their grief. But really, what have I to lose?

"I was thinking," Mrs Everdeen says as I start to stand up. "There's so much room in this house, especially with Katniss married now and gone for the Games. Why doesn't your family stay with us? Until the Games are over at least?"

"Stay with you?"

The thought is tempting. Victor's Village is close to the square, closer to school than our shack is. I hate the idea of my siblings walking so far to school with things as tense as they are. But my mother would surely disapprove. We'd be obligated to repay Mrs Everdeen and my mother insists on repaying her debts. She doesn't accept charity.

As though reading my mind, Mrs Everdeen adds, "I could use another pair of hands. There's so many people who need tending to, the house work is piling up."

"I'll ask."

_Katniss -_

My blood is pulsing wildly in my veins. I beat my hands against the glass of the tube, but there is no way out. I cannot get out. I cannot get to Cinna!

I watch in horror as he's clubbed again and again in his shoulders and his face. A white-uniformed knee connects with his stomach and Cinna recoils like an infant on the floor, thrashing in pain – unable to get away or to make it end.

The ground beneath my feet is moving, the pedestal shooting me up into the sky and I am still trying to get to my friend. I have to try! I have to -

My eyes are blinded by white sunlight as I'm shot into the open Arena. Waves of sapphire and blinding silver slash at my irises and I have to shield my eyes with my hand as I desperately try to hold me balance. One slip, and I'll be blown sky high before the clock has finished it's countdown.

A ripple of blue spears my eyesight again and I rub at my eyeballs with the palms of my hands, trying to clear my vision. But once I can see, I wish I couldn't.

Crystal blue water laps at the base of my pedestal. This is no ordinary Arena. Plutarch Heavensbee has gone all out.


End file.
